


Dark Matter

by TheDarknessFactor



Series: The Scientific Implications of Two Sisters [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/F, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Jedi Funerals, Minor Character Death, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Reunion, Shadow of Revan, Siblings, Sister-Sister Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8971399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarknessFactor/pseuds/TheDarknessFactor
Summary: What awaits Kulah'ni on Tython is worse than anything she could have imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HOLD ONTO YOUR HATS, FOLKS.
> 
> This is going to be the last entry in this series. Since the main focus of the series is the relationship between these two, I've decided that my next SWTOR fics will be part of a separate series, where the focus will expand to five characters instead of just two. 
> 
> I've split this one into two parts. It made more sense, logically speaking.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! Thanks for sticking with me through this series!

She’s woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of her holocomm chiming.  Though she is momentarily confused by the empty space in bed beside her, she soon remembers that Elara chose to stay up and take inventory on the medical supplies.  She had insisted that Kulah’ni get some sleep, especially after the amount of effort that the attack of Korriban had taken.

Elara is already in the main area of the ship, looking exhausted but concerned.

“I don’t know what it’s about,” she says, “but it’s Colonel Darok’s frequency again.”

“Got it,” murmurs Kulah’ni.  She wraps her blanket around her more tightly; the ship is always a bit too cold for her tastes. 

She answers the call, watching as Theron takes shape in front of her. 

“Major, I’m sorry about this, but we need your team again.  Right now.”

Hearing the urgency in his tone, Kulah’ni straightens.  “What’s this about?”

“Imperial troops have captured Tython,” Theron says.  “We don’t know how this could have happened so soon— right after we attacked Korriban— but it’s happened, and we’ve got to take action ASAP.  We’ve gotten into contact with a Jedi Knight that knows Tython and we think that she’ll be able to help you with a ground assault.”

Heart in her throat, Kulah’ni swallows.  “Do we have any reports of casualties?”

Theron shakes his head.  “We haven’t received any communications from the planet since the attack started.  But from what our recon ships can tell, the fighting is over.  The Empire won.”

“Send me coordinates for a rendezvous,” Kulah’ni orders.  “I’ll have my team ready to go and will meet you there.”

“Thanks,” Theron says.  “I know this is a lot to ask—“

“It isn’t,” Kulah’ni interrupts.  “Not for me.”

Theron looks caught off guard by that, but he nods after a moment.  “All right, then.  I’ll forward the rendezvous coordinates and we’ll see you there.  Later.”

The hologram vanishes, leaving only the darkness of the ship and Elara, who has already started to move, pulling out kolto packs from their storage containers and tossing several to Kulah’ni.  Kulah’ni, meanwhile, triggers the ship-wide alarm, which has her team stumbling out of their quarters dressed in their armor within ten minutes. 

Kulah’ni herself pulls on her armor in record time, and is already waiting for the rest of them in the common area.

“Sir!” Aric says, saluting sharply.  The rest of Havoc Squad follows suit (even Tanno, but then he knows better than to slack off when she’s triggered the alarm). 

“At ease,” she says.  “We just got a call from Shan: Tython was attacked and taken by the Empire.  We’re about to mount an attack to retake the planet.  We’ll be coordinating and working with a Jedi Knight, and I need to know now if any of you have a problem with that.”

No one says anything.

“Good.  Any questions?”

“Any idea what kind forces we’ll be facing?” Aric asks.  “Sith?  Imperial troopers?”

“I don’t know,” Kulah’ni admits.  “We’re getting a full briefing after we rendezvous with Shan and Colonel Darok.  I would assume that there will be both Sith and Imperial troopers, however.”

“We were able to handle the Sith on Korriban,” Tanno points out.

“We were,” Kulah’ni admits.  “But not without aid from the Jedi Order.  And remember, there were no Dark Council members to deal with.”

“You think there will be on Tython?” Elara asks.

“I think it’s a bit strange that none of them were on Korriban when we attacked, and now suddenly Tython’s been taken by the Empire.”

Silence follows that statement, but Kulah’ni can only give her crew so long to absorb what she’s said.  They already know that they aren’t likely to survive an encounter with a member of the Dark Council.

“Any other questions?” she asks. 

“No, sir,” is the unison reply.

“Okay, then,” she says.  “If you have anything else to do to prepare, I suggest you take care of it now.  We don’t know if we’ll get the chance to come back here before the attack begins.”

* * *

 

There isn’t even time for a briefing.  Alarms are already blaring on Colonel Darok’s ship, and troops are running all over the place.  Kulah’ni and her squad members are directed to a dropship in the hangar, where there is another squad of Republic troops and a Mirialan woman waiting for them. 

She’s talking to the leader of the squad; she shifts slightly, allowing Kulah’ni to get a glimpse of the two lightsabers on her hips. 

“Thank you, Captain,” the woman says, bowing her head and turning to Kulah’ni.  “Major Dorne.  I understand that you and the legendary Havoc Squad will be working with me on this offensive.”

Kulah’ni saluted.  “Theron only mentioned a Jedi Knight; he didn’t specify who.  I guess you’re the one he was talking about.”

“That’s right.”  The woman smiles and holds out a hand.  “I’m Jedi Knight Meyniri, but you can call me Ceydri if you’d like.  I’m… not a huge fan of the title.”

She’s just a bit taller than Kulah’ni, but it’s not that that Kulah’ni finds unnerving about her.  Maybe it’s the cape she wears, or maybe it’s the razor-sharp edge to her smile.  Her grip is firm when she shakes Kulah’ni’s hand.

“Well, then I guess you’re welcome to call me Kulah’ni,” she replies.  “This is my team— I’d give introductions, but it seems like we might drop out of hyperspace at any minute, and I’d rather go over strategies if possible.”

“Sounds good,” Ceydri says.  “Fair warning: it’s been a while since I had to do any fighting, and I’ve got an injury that might slow me down a bit.”

 “The Council approved you for combat?”

Ceydri smiles again.  “They’re confident in my abilities.”

Kulah’ni resists the urge to frown, knowing that she can’t afford to waste time by expressing her skepticism.  Now that she can take a closer look, she realizes that Ceydri appears to be favoring her right leg— not a good sign, especially since most melee combat involves a lot of legwork.

“All right,” she says.  “If you get hurt, let me know.  I have kolto packs and kolto booster injections on hand.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They manage to form a somewhat coherent plan for approaching the Temple.  Kulah’ni gets a surprised look from Ceydri when she comes up with the idea of cutting through one of the Flesh Raider villages to get to the Temple without being spotted by the Empire, which reminds her that practically no one outside of her squad knows about her upbringing as a Jedi.  She would honestly rather keep it that way, but she admits it to Ceydri so as to prevent any more surprise.

“Really?” Ceydri asks.  “I didn’t realize that the Jedi ever took in anyone who wasn’t Force-sensitive.”

Kulah’ni shrugs.  “Master Felmar took me in.  I’ve… never known why.  But I’m grateful that she did.”

“Master Felmar did?”  Ceydri shakes her head, looking amused.  “Now I’m less surprised.”

They keep planning until another alarm begins to sound, this one signaling that they’re about to emerge from hyperspace.  Ceydri nods at her and follows the other squad aboard the dropship; Kulah’ni signals for Havoc to follow.

It takes a few minutes, but they’re soon in the air, trying to get to their designated landing zone.  The dropship shudders several times as anti-aircraft pulses detonate nearby, but they somehow manage to get to the ground without any major incidents.  Ceydri is the first out the door, both lightsabers igniting as she makes an impossible leap for the enemy forces.

Her lightsabers are red— traditionally a color belonging to the Sith; Kulah’ni almost falters at the sight.  But Ceydri is cutting through Imperial troops, not Republic ones, so she hefts her cannon and starts laying down suppressing fire on the reinforcements who are already hurrying to help.

She and her squad push forward slowly, until they’ve caught up to Ceydri’s position.  Both of Ceydri’s sabers are whirling around her, deflecting blaster bolts back at the troops who are firing them.  Occasionally, an officer with a vibroblade will get close enough to engage in close combat, and that’s when Kulah’ni sees it.

Ceydri pivots to engage whoever it is— and stumbles.

Kulah’ni is pouring blaster bolts into the man before he has the chance to take advantage.  Ceydri recovers quickly, but Kulah’ni is close enough to see the shock and frustration on her face.  It’s startling, and not at all like the cordial Jedi Knight she spoke with on Darok’s ship.

“We need to cut through them!” she roars.  “We need to push on!”

That seems to snap Ceydri out of it, and she Force-pushes most of the Imperial troops out of the way.  The other squad, Havoc, and Ceydri all run for the gap, with Ceydri limping all the while but still somehow keeping up.

They make it to their first objective without incident: the Flesh Raider village.  Kulah’ni sighs in relief when she sees that the homes that the Flesh Raiders made appear to be deserted.  At least they managed to flee before the Imperial troops had the chance to slaughter them.

“You were right,” Ceydri pants.  “They didn’t expect us to come this way.”

There’s a blaster burn on her shoulder; Kulah’ni takes the time to press a kolto pad on it while they move, taping it into place and returning Ceydri’s nod of thanks. 

“I didn’t know it would be this hard,” Ceydri admits. 

Kulah’ni says nothing.  She doesn’t understand why the Order would send Ceydri Meyniri, who moves like a much older woman and seems to be frustrated far too easily for a fully-fledged Knight.  There’s no denying her skill in combat, but it seems like her leg ought to be getting more treatment.

They arrive at the Temple and crouch down behind some cover.  The rest of the troops are going to be assaulting the front entrance, while Kulah’ni and Ceydri infiltrate through the back way.  Their objective is to try to capture the upper levels while the majority of the Imperial troops are preoccupied with the main force.

Kulah’ni is the one who leads the way, stepping through the halls of the place that she once called home.  She tries to stay detached, but she can’t stop herself from being appalled at the destruction that she sees.  Relics shattered, debris everywhere, and—

She swallows back bile.  Those are the bodies of _Padawans_ , bearing both blaster wounds and lightsaber cuts.  She immediately berates herself for her hypocrisy, having gunned down several Sith acolytes during the attack on Korriban, and yet the feeling in her chest… it’s like she’s being stabbed herself.

Ceydri remains silent the entire way, her expression closed off.

They only come across a few troops left behind, and they’re easily taken down.  One is silenced rather viciously: as soon as he comes around the corner, Ceydri flings one of her lightsabers at him and takes off his head.

They check the council chambers first; strangely enough, the Imperials left no one guarding it.  The other squad is left to guard the room and get in contact with Darok and Shan, while Ceydri, Kulah’ni, and the rest of the Havoc Squad head for the holoprojector room.

It’s an outright disaster.  The place looks as though a whirlwind ripped through it; none of the equipment survived. 

“Something’s wrong,” Ceydri murmurs.  “The Force is different here.”

Kulah’ni sees another corpse in the center of the room.  She picks her way across the rubble, her heart sinking to her feet as she makes out dark blue skin and a set of montrals.  She feels strangely detached from the scene as she slowly kneels beside Torunna, taking in everything— the pained look on her face, the way it looks like someone threw a grenade at her chest.

She reaches out with trembling fingers, and closes Torunna’s eyes.

Deep down, she knows that she’s in shock.  She hears Ceydri whisper something, and then sees her practically explode into motion, sprinting out of the room with what can only be described as a cry of rage. 

Kulah’ni looks around for Torunna’s lightsaber, but can’t find it anywhere.  She thinks she can hear Elara calling for her, but she can’t— she _has_ to find Torunna’s lightsaber, it belongs with her—

“ _Sir_!”

There is a sharp crack, and then her face is stinging with pain.  Kulah’ni blinks, and Elara comes into focus.

“Get ahold of yourself!” she snaps, even though there are tears in her eyes.  “We’re not finished yet.  We need to go, we have more work to do!”

Kulah’ni shakes herself and, with a tremendous amount of effort, forces herself to her feet.  She leads Havoc out of the holoprojector room and over to the library, where she can hear the sounds of a lightsaber battle.

It’s Ceydri, fighting against a Chagrian Sith.  The Sith never answers Ceydri’s enraged shouts, and it becomes clearer with every blow that Ceydri is losing.

Kulah’ni raises her cannon almost robotically, firing one of her pinpoint laser pulses.  By some miracle, it strikes the Chagrian in the side, making him howl in pain.  He turns his sights on her next, the moment of distraction enough for Ceydri to sink both lightsabers into his chest.  His death is instantaneous.

Ceydri is breathing heavily as she stands over his body.  It seems to take her a great amount of effort to sheathe her lightsabers, turning back to Kulah’ni.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she says, voice stilted, before stalking out of the room.

There’s a brief pause after Ceydri leaves.  Kulah’ni starts when Elara suddenly grabs her hand, lacing their fingers together.  It’s awkward with their gloves on, but Kulah’ni can’t stop herself from holding on for dear life. 

Somehow, impossibly, her adrenaline powers her through her report to Theron and Darok.  She wanders the upper halls of the Temple aimlessly after that, noticing that efforts are already underway to clean up the Temple.  She sees other Jedi who have already returned and are shooting her peculiar looks as she makes her way back to the holoprojector room.

Torunna’s body has already been moved.  Of course.  Kulah’ni resists the urge to grab the nearest Jedi and shake them, demanding to know what they’ve done with her.

“Kulah’ni,” someone calls.  It’s Ceydri, beckoning her over.  “I managed to recover some security data from the attack by the Empire.  Including holorecordings.  I mean, you don’t have to see… if you don’t want to.”

“I think maybe—“ Elara begins.

“No,” Kulah’ni cuts her off.  “No, I need to know.”

Ceydri nods, her expression blank.  She pulls out her datapad and a portable holoprojector, starting it up.  Torunna flickers into existence first— still alive, still strong, almost exactly the way Kulah’ni remembers her.  The next person to come into view, however, is the one who makes her suck in a breath.

It’s Nox.

It’s a Jedi Master on the Jedi Council versus a Sith Lord on the Dark Council.  After seeing Nox fight on Oricon, Kulah’ni knows that she’s strong, but she would never have pegged her as someone capable of taking on Torunna.  Yet here she is, matching Torunna blow-for-blow, even improvising when Torunna somehow breaks her lightsaber.

Kulah’ni’s eyes widen at that.  She had no idea her master was capable of such things.

She takes in every moment.  She watches as Torunna breaks Nox’s lightsaber, followed by her own.  She watches as Torunna prepares for what must be the final blow, and watches as something changes in Nox.  Somehow, her movements become impossibly fast, and the next thing Kulah’ni knows, Torunna is lying on the ground with a massive hole in her chest.

“Play it back more slowly,” she demands. 

Beside her, Elara flinches.  “Kulah’ni…“

“Please.”  Her voice is strained.

Ceydri only nods, rewinding and slowing down the footage.  This time, Kulah’ni is able to see what happens: Nox runs forward, holding what looks like a ball of lightning.  Somehow, she shoves it into Torunna’s chest, then leaps away.  Torunna barely even has time to blink.

The recording fades out of existence.  Kulah’ni feels as though its images have been burned into her retinas.

“That Sith will pay,” Ceydri finally says, voice low.  “I promise you that.”

A few hours earlier, Kulah’ni would have been alarmed to hear Ceydri say such a thing.  As it is right now, however, all she can do is nod dumbly and watch Ceydri’s retreating back as the woman leaves the room.  She somehow manages to force herself to stand, wondering why it’s only Elara here with her.  Where did the rest of her crew get to?

“They’re back at the ship, sir,” Elara says.  “We’ve been given clearance to go on our way.”

There are two surviving padawans who are using the Force to try and clear out the room.  Suddenly, the thought of leaving Tython again, so soon after it’s been devastated by the Empire’s attack, is unbearable.  She has managed to put aside her homesickness for so long, but now she feels as though she is drowning in it.

“If you all wouldn’t mind waiting in orbit for a while,” she says hoarsely, “I… I’m going to stay here.  For a few days, at least.  Probably longer.”

Elara hesitates, but squeezes her hand.  “If that’s what you need.  Do you want me to stay with you?”

Kulah’ni shakes her head. 

Elara seems to understand.  “Okay.  We’ll come pick you up when you’re ready.  Just give us a call.”

* * *

 

The next few days are filled with mindless work. 

It’s exactly what Kulah’ni needs.  There are a few Jedi Masters who returned to Tython as soon as it was safe, and they don’t question her presence.  Instead, they just give her instructions on how she can best help.  They don’t question the fact that she’s set up temporary lodgings for herself in the quarters she used to have when she was living with Torunna, either.

She wonders if this is what it was like after the Sacking of Coruscant.  If there were Jedi walking around the temple with shell-shocked looks on their faces, still unable to process the fact that their home was invaded and half-destroyed.  She wonders if there were dozens of Jedi in the medbays, waiting for treatment from the few medics around.  She wonders if every word of consolation from the older Jedi sounded as hollow as they do now.

She doesn’t see Ceydri Meyniri again, but it doesn’t occur to her to wonder why Ceydri would leave so soon.

She splits her time between clean-up duty and helping in the medbay.  Though she can’t use the Force to heal, she is still an accomplished medic in her own right, and the Jedi healers can use all the help they can get.

Before she knows it, a week passes by.  Enough help from returning Jedi and the Republic cleanup crews has arrived that she knows she isn’t needed anymore, but she can’t bring herself to leave.

She is eating a bowl of stew in Torunna’s deserted kitchen when the doorbell chimes.

She stares at the door blankly for a few minutes; she had never been the one to answer it when she was younger.  Eventually she manages to gather her wits about her, and calls, “Come in.”

It’s the Grand Master who steps over the threshold, looking unsurprised to see her.  “Were it not for your age,” she says, “I would almost believe no time has passed.  But it has been far too long since you’ve been to Tython, Kulah’ni.”

Kulah’ni bows her head, out of habit more than anything else.  “Grand Master Shan.”

“Please, call me Satele.”  At Kulah’ni’s surprised look, Satele shoots her a wan smile.  “This is not the time for formalities.”

Kulah’ni stumbles over her words in offering Satele some tea; Satele declines, opting to sit on the cushion on the other side of the dining table.

“I’ll get the more official business out of the way,” Satele begins.  “We’ve arranged for the funerals of Master Torunna and the other Jedi who perished in defense of the Temple to take place tomorrow morning.  I assume that’s why you’ve been prolonging your stay.”

That’s only part of the reason, but Kulah’ni nods anyway.  Satele’s not wrong.

“I’m also obligated to thank you for the part you played in retaking the Temple,” she continues.  “I understand that you were partnered with Knight Meyniri for that particular task.  Tell me… did she seem okay?”

The question startles Kulah’ni.  “Truth be told, Master… I’m not sure why you approved her for combat.  She made multiple mistakes that I wouldn’t expect from a Jedi, and her limp caused her more problems than it should have.  She was… not what I expected.”

“I imagine she wasn’t,” Satele says, looking away for a moment.  “Knight Meyniri is something of a special case.  You see… she killed the Sith Emperor.”

Kulah’ni absorbs this news with a slow breath.  In some ways, it explains a lot, but in others, it only leaves her more confused.  “She’s _that_ Jedi?”

“Indeed.  But the battle took its toll on her.  I hoped to see if this mission would indicate whether she was ready to return to active duty as a Knight or not.  I’ll take what you’ve said to me into consideration.”

Kulah’ni frowns, but doesn’t question that. 

“Now,” Satele says, “that’s everything official out of the way, but… I wanted to ask how you’re doing.”

Kulah’ni glances up sharply, surprised that Satele isn’t admonishing her for allowing her attachment to Torunna to hurt her this badly— but then, she isn’t a Jedi.  She never was. 

“Master Felmar and I didn’t speak all that often, after I left to join the army,” she says.  “I don’t understand why this hurts so much.”

“I think that finding Torunna’s body in such a state would be fairly traumatizing.”

Kulah’ni shakes her head.  “I’ve seen what war can do first-hand.”

“Kulah’ni… this is not the same thing.”  Satele sighs.  “We Jedi like to preach about distancing ourselves from attachments, but the death of people we care about hurts all the same.  Master Felmar was my friend.  When I heard that she had perished, I… had to actively reach out with the Force to verify that it was true.”

There is raw emotion in her voice.  It brings tears to Kulah’ni’s eyes, which she blinks back furiously. 

It is with tremendous effort that she keeps her voice from shaking.  “All I can think about is how I should’ve commed her more often.”

Satele opens her mouth, like she wants to say something to reassure Kulah’ni, but she closes it a moment later, looking pained.  It occurs to Kulah’ni that this woman has no idea how to handle someone who is grieving so openly, who is probably broadcasting her pain into the Force even without being able to use it.  For one wild moment, she almost believes that Satele is only doing this to get her to stop, and selfishly wants to hold onto her pain for as long as possible.

Kulah’ni instantly brushes aside that notion.  The compassion that Satele is showing is real.

“Thank you, Satele,” she says, the name strange to her.  “But I think I’d like to be alone.  At least until the funerals tomorrow.”

Satele hesitates, but nods.  “Of course.  If you need anything, feel free to reach out to me.”

Kulah’ni watches her go, giving her a few seconds to walk away from the closed door to Torunna’s quarters before she finally breaks down into sobs.

* * *

 

The funerals the next morning are a silent affair.  There is one ancient-looking Jedi reading the rites.  Not a single bystander makes a sound; they all watch as, one by one, each shrouded body has their name spoken above them before they are cremated.  Torunna is no different.

Kulah’ni tries to tell herself that Torunna is one with the Force now, and that in some way she is there with her, but she doesn’t feel any unusual warmth indicating that her master is watching over her.  Still, she tries to believe, and in doing so, gleans the smallest amount of comfort from it.

She leaves the Temple quietly once the funerals are over, making a call to her ship and having it pick her up at the orbital station.  Aric completely ignores protocol once she’s on board, pulling her in for a hug that she gladly accepts.  To her surprise, Elara joins in a moment later, followed by Yuun.

Tanno grumbles a bit, but he’s big enough to wrap his arms around all of them, and that’s exactly what he ends up doing.

“Were I built differently, I would join in this gesture of affection and camaraderie,” Forex says.  “As it is—“

“Get over here,” Elara demands, which is how Forex ends up as part of their group hug as well.

Kulah’ni manages to muster a smile for them all when they separate.  “I’m okay, guys.”

“You sure?” Aric asks.  “I know it’s probably been a rough week.”

“Yeah, it has,” she admits.  “But, you know, I think I was able to work through some of it.  And I have all of you guys, so… thanks for sticking with me.”

Tanno rolls his eyes.  “Don’t go getting all mushy on us, boss.”

“I’ll do my best,” Kulah’ni says, smirking at him.

Aric clears his throat.  “I, uh… was gonna make team dinner,” he says.  “If you wanted.”

Kulah’ni smiles.  “Yeah, that sounds good.  Thanks, Aric.”

Elara follows her to their room, where Kulah’ni puts down some of Torunna’s belongings (Satele gave her permission to keep them).  She feels like she doesn’t know what to do while she waits for dinner, so she sends Elara a helpless look.

Elara clears her throat, and salutes.  “I took the liberty of filing for a leave of absence in your stead, sir.  It was granted, though we are expected to be back on active duty in two days’ time.”

Kulah’ni blinks.  She completely forgot about that, in her grief.  “Thank you, Elara,” she says.  “I know I was gone for a while.  Thank you for being patient with me while I…”

“While you grieved?” Elara asks gently.

Kulah’ni looks down at her feet.  “I’m not sure that I’m done doing that just yet.”

“That’s all right.  These things take time, remember?”

“Yeah, I know.  I don’t suppose you left any reports for me to file?”

Elara gives her an offended look.  “Of course not.  What do you take me for?”

Kulah’ni laughs.  It feels like real laughter, for the first time in a week.  Once she manages to sober up, she looks at Elara.

“I love you,” she says.  It suddenly feels like she doesn’t say it enough.

Elara leans over and pecks her on the cheek.  “I love you too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand this is it. The last thing I'll publish for this series!

The Carrick Station cantina is one of the cleaner cantinas that Kulah’ni’s been to.  It’s definitely one of the only ones to not have a sticky floor, even though the smell of cheap booze is still in the air. 

She can see Theron seated at one of the corner tables, talking to someone and laughing.  She blinks in surprise when she realizes that that someone is Ceydri Meyniri, looking much more relaxed than she had been the last time Kulah’ni saw her.

Theron spots her first and waves her over. 

“Hey, Major,” he says.  He and Ceydri both have shot glasses in front of them.  “You gonna have something?  I’ve got a tab open.”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Kulah’ni says.  She looks between the two of them.  “I thought that we were supposed to be talking about something urgent.”

Theron’s expression changes to something more serious almost immediately.  “We are, but it didn’t hurt to keep up appearances while we waited for you.”

“No, it didn’t,” Ceydri murmurs, shooting Theron a not-so-subtle glance.  Kulah’ni forces herself not to react to that, putting the million questions she has about Ceydri out of her mind.

Theron doesn’t seem to notice.  “I know that you probably don’t want to hear this,” he says, “but I don’t think that the attack on Tython was a retaliation for Korriban.  I think both attacks were meant to coincide with each other.”

Kulah’ni wishes she could be more surprised, but the oddness of the attacks has been nagging at her for days now.  Still, for some reason it makes Torunna’s death seem that much worse— as if it didn’t actually mean anything.

Ceydri leans forward.  “You think Darok had something to do with this?”

“I think he was definitely in on it somehow,” Theron admits.  “He is the one who planned the attack on Korriban, and I know for a fact that it was his idea to begin with.  I can’t confirm anything yet, but from what I’ve been able to gather so far, it seems that rare artifacts were taken from both Korriban and Tython before both planets were recaptured.”

“So Korriban was retaken by the Empire?” Kulah’ni asks.

“Yes, but we knew that would happen,” Theron says.  “Still, I can’t find whatever was taken from Korriban in any official records.  It’s like it vanished from the galaxy.  I’m going to start digging and see if I can find some kind of trail to follow.  I just… I have a bad feeling about all this.”

“There _is_ something in the Force,” Ceydri says, frowning.  “I’m not sure what it is.  It’s… confusing, but that’s all I can really say about it.” 

“Well.  That’s… reassuring.”

Kulah’ni feels a bit like she’s not really needed in this conversation.  “If you want, I can see what I can find out from the military?”

“That’s not necessary,” Theron replies, waving his hand.  “Just keep doing what you’re doing, both of you.  I wanted to give you a heads-up on what might be going on.  Right now, you’re the only two people I can trust for sure.”

“Well, you can count on us,” Kulah’ni says, even though she’s really not sure about Ceydri.  Ceydri is nodding along, however.

“Okay, then.  Good.”  Theron calls over one of the servers.  “But, uh, you should really have one drink with us, Major.  Just to keep up appearances.”

* * *

 

Their next meeting is on Manaan.  The world gives the appearance of being tranquil, but the tension in the room could be cut with a vibroknife.  Theron is pacing back and forth and muttering to himself.  Kulah’ni has brought Aric with her this time.  There’s nothing they can do but lounge against the wall and wait for Ceydri to arrive.

Eventually, she does.  There’s a pureblood Sith looming behind her.  He’s silent, but his presence is oppressive in a familiar way.  He seems to notice Kulah’ni’s staring, as well, because he smirks at her.  She holds his gaze for a few moments before looking away.

“Scourge can sense the strange presence in the Force better than I can,” Ceydri says without preamble.  “That’s why I brought him.”

To his credit, Theron doesn’t look bothered.  “Sure, fine.  Look, I’m sorry for the short notice, but we only have a small window of opportunity.  I traced the movement of the relics to an underwater facility here, on Manaan.  I need you four to go in, and see what you find.”

“That’s not a whole lot of information to go on, Agent Shan,” Aric growls.

Theron sighs, running a hand through his hair.  “I’m sorry,” he says.  “It’s all I can give right now.  We really can’t afford to be standing around here right now.  I’d go with you, but I have a contact I need to meet with.  She might be able to help us out with this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kulah’ni says, before anyone else can protest.  “Do what you have to do.”

“Thanks,” Theron says.

As they head for a ship to take them to the facility, Aric mutters to her, “I still hate the SIS.”

Kulah’ni snorts.  “Noted.”

“Also, what’s with the Sith?”

“No idea.”

They make it to the facility without incident, but it isn’t long after they make it inside that they encounter hostile security forces.  Kulah’ni and Aric hang back and deal long-distance attacks, while both Ceydri and Scourge plow into the enemies with the force of a pair of gundarks. 

Once again, Ceydri seems to be struggling with combat.  Scourge is able to pick up the slack, however, covering for her whenever she falters.  The two of them don’t speak to each other at all, and don’t even seem to share glances, so Kulah’ni cannot for the life of her figure out what their deal is.

They make it pretty far into the facility, encountering the Order of Shasa along the way, before Kulah’ni’s comm chimes.

“Just so you guys know, you’re rendezvousing with a couple of reinforcements in the next room,” Theron says.

Kulah’ni blinks.  “What reinforcements?”

“Just— look, my contact had already sent her people in there when I met with her, so you’ll be running into them.  Keep an open mind, and remember that we’re all on the same side right now.”

“Why?” Kulah’ni asks, walking through the door first.  “Who’s—?”

She stops, abruptly enough that Aric bumps into her when he tries to follow.

Four people are standing in the center of the room.  There is an unfamiliar Wookiee, with a droid hanging around his neck (Kulah’ni doesn’t want to know the story behind that).  There is a Cathar woman, holding a lilac-colored lightsaber and facing them with a severe look on her face.  Kulah’ni’s first assumption is that she is a Jedi, until she sees who the third person is.

“Nox,” she breathes.

Nox’s own lightsaber is unlit, but she doesn’t clip it to her belt until after a few moments.  The Cathar shoots her a skeptical glance, but ends up following suit. 

“Major Dorne,” Nox says.  “It’s been a while.  To be honest, I was hoping that you would be one of the Republic reinforcements that Lana told us about.”

Kulah’ni stares blankly at her for a moment, before she realizes that Nox has absolutely no idea who she killed on Tython.  That realization makes her blood boil, and she feels her hands curl into fists. 

Behind her, Ceydri snarls, “Imperial _scum_!”

“Watch your tone,” the Cathar snaps.  Her head snaps towards Scourge a moment later, though, and she sounds genuinely surprised when she says, “You are not someone I expected to see.”

Kulah’ni barely hears any of it.  She walks slowly towards Nox, the image of Nox ripping Torunna apart playing in her head.  She registers that Ashara is standing a few paces away from Nox, and is watching her warily.

“Major Dorne?” she asks softly.

She stares at Nox.  “You don’t even know what you’ve done,” she says, after a moment.

“If you’re referring to the attack on Tython, I can tell you that we were set up, just as you were.”

Kulah’ni trembles, and suddenly the words are pouring out of her.  “Aric warned me about you.  He said that you were trouble, after you killed everyone on Makeb.”  She sees Ashara flinch, and doesn’t care.  “But I thought maybe you were a decent person.  I thought, after Oricon, that there was hope that the Republic and the Empire could live in peace.  But you… I get it, she was in your way, but did you have to do it so…”

She can’t finish that sentence.  She turns away in disgust. 

“I don’t understand,” Nox says.

“Oh, you don’t understand?” Ceydri says, moving to stand next to Kulah’ni.  “Here, let me give you a hint: you practically _blew her up_.”

Strangely enough, the other Sith that Nox is with doesn’t move to intervene.  She is watching them instead, her violet eyes narrowed.

Ashara seems to have understood, at least, because her hands fly to her mouth in horror.  “Master Felmar,” she whispers.  She looks at Nox.  “You killed Master Felmar?”

Nox doesn’t move.  “Your Jedi Master,” she finally says.  “The one who raised you.”  Her voice sounds oddly hollow.

She starts to laugh after that, the sound rough, as though she doesn’t laugh nearly enough.  It grows until it sounds like the insane cackling of a witch.  Even Ceydri appears to be taken aback by it, but her rage returns full-force a moment later. 

“I should kill you for it,” Ceydri says lowly.  “But I think it might be a bit more poetic if I let the Major do it instead.”

“No!”  Ashara hurries forward, placing herself between Nox and Kulah’ni.  “No, Major Dorne, please, listen—“

“Be quiet!” shouts Ceydri, and she uses the Force to lift up Ashara and hold her in the air a good six feet away from Nox and Kulah’ni.  Her hold on Ashara doesn’t last long; the Togruta is able to break free after a few moments of struggle, igniting both of her sabers and leaping at Ceydri.

Kulah’ni, meanwhile, watches as Nox falls to her knees before her.  Her helmeted head is raised, however, giving the illusion that Nox is still trying to maintain eye contact.  She doesn’t reach for her lightsaber.  She doesn’t make a single move to defend herself.  Kulah’ni pulls her holdout blaster, aiming it carefully at Nox’s head.

With one shot, she could end the life of a Sith, and avenge Torunna.  What’s one more dead Sith, anyway?  All they do is try to hurt people.  There don’t seem to be any exceptions to that rule, no matter how hard Kulah’ni tries to keep looking.

“Don’t!” calls Ashara.  She seems to be barely holding Ceydri back.  “Major Dorne, I know you can see the good in people.  She’s not a bad person, not really!  I know that she hurt someone you love, but if you do this, there won’t be any coming back from it!”

“Sir,” Aric mutters behind her.  “Just… remember, you stopped me from killing Zane.  I’m not going to make the decision for you, but…”

“People like her are a pestilence,” Ceydri declares.  “Better to make sure that they can’t keep spreading their evil everywhere.”

Kulah’ni’s hand trembles.  She places her finger on the trigger.

“Nox!” says Ashara, knocking Ceydri away with a Force push.  “Nox, take off your helmet.”

That catches Kulah’ni off guard.  Now that she thinks about it, however, it seems appropriate that she should have to see the face of the person she’s going to kill.  Especially if she’s about to kill them in cold blood.  So she nods jerkily, gesturing with her blaster.  “You heard her.  Take off the helmet.”

Nox doesn’t move for a long moment, and no one in the room makes a sound, apart from Ashara and Ceydri (who are still fighting).  Kulah’ni isn’t sure why Ashara wants Nox to remove the helmet, but if she’s hoping to engender some sort of sympathy by showing someone pitiable underneath it, then—

The first thing she realizes is that Nox is much younger than she’d initially assumed.  The second is that she has white hair that appears to be natural.  The third is that, underneath the makeup on her face, there are the faded scars of a slave who was bought by the S’chgann Traders.

The blaster slips through suddenly numb fingers.

“ _S’kora_?” she chokes out, not even caring that her old accent slips through with that name.

For a brief, shining second, there is nothing but the pure joy of finally, after so many years, finding her sister again.  Remembering seeing S’kora being dragged away by slavers, her face contorted in agony, only for her to somehow be here, now (alive) wipes everything else away, and all Kulah’ni can do is reach blindly for her little sister, wanting nothing more than to embrace her.

That moment comes crashing down when she remembers.

All she can think to say is, “You were going to let me _kill you_?”

S’kora opens her mouth, then closes it, and then opens it again.  “I—“

“Perhaps, now that we have established that the Major does not wish to shoot you in the head, we ought to move on our objective,” the other Sith interrupts.

There is a yell of frustration from Ceydri, and this time it is she who manages to shove away Ashara.  “Fine,” she says.  “If _you_ won’t kill her—“

S’kora stands, putting her helmet back on.  Her voice is distorted through the modulator, but it’s still recognizable.  “I will not extend you the courtesy of laying down to die, Jedi.  If you are aware of what I did to Master Felmar, then you are equally aware of what I can do to you.”

“This is a waste of time,” says the Cathar.  “And your murderous intent is unbecoming of you, Jedi.”

Ceydri lowers her sabers, but does not deactivate them.  “That’s rich, coming from a Sith.”

“Enough,” Kulah’ni finally says.  She tries her best to get her head in the game, focusing on the task at hand.  The Cathar Sith is right; they need to get this done before they all reach the boiling point.  “We need to get moving.  Duels to the death can wait.”

Ceydri lets out an impatient sound, but instead of lashing out she strides stiffly towards the door on the far side of the room.  Scourge follows her silently, though not before shooting a curious look at the Cathar woman, who waits a few moments before also leaving.  S’kora and Ashara follow her, walking side-by-side, and Kulah’ni and Aric bring up the rear.

They manage to hold off on their hostilities long enough to confront Arkous and Darok.  Though the two manage to escape, they’re still able to shut down the experiments being done on the Selkath. 

Theron guides them to a ship that they can use to escape.  It’s cramped, but it gets them out of the facility before it can sink to the bottom of the sea.  Kulah’ni can’t stop herself from shooting glances at S’kora, trying to figure out how her sister has been doing all these years.  S’kora appears to not be looking at her, but it’s impossible to tell with the helmet on.

When they finally get back to Theron’s hideout (after a very tense ride, wherein Ceydri seems only a second away from beheading both Sith), they see him arguing with a blond woman— yet another Sith.

“Can’t get away from them,” Aric mutters.  Kulah’ni elbows him.

“Ah, glad to see you’ve all made it out,” the blond woman says.  “For those of you who don’t already know, I am Lana Beniko.  I was previously an advisor to Darth Arkous.  And no, I will not be handing over my lightsaber.”

“That you would need to is a ridiculous assumption,” the Cathar woman says.  “We mean our Republic allies no harm.  This is the most expedient way to erase the traitors in our midst.”

“Don’t mind her,” S’kora says.  “She has something of an obsession with traitors.”

“Witch, how many times to I have to tell you to _hold your tongue_ —“

“How about I do everyone a favor,” Ceydri says, “and shut you both up permanently?”

“I’m not opposed to helping,” Scourge adds.

“ _Okay_ ,” Kulah’ni shouts, feeling like rubbing her temples.  Ashara has a similarly pained look on her face.  “You three are really not making this day any better.  Theron, Ms. Beniko— what do you have for us?”

“Er, just Lana’s quite all right,” Lana says quickly.  “Theron, why don’t you start?”

* * *

 

S’kora is first to leave Manaan, departing without saying even a word to Kulah’ni.  Kulah’ni is too dazed by the day’s revelations to really react to this, heading back to her ship without protest.  Ceydri managed to become less volatile during the discussions, making helpful suggestions and even nodding at the something the Cathar Sith’s (Anjanay, apparently) statements. 

“Sir,” Aric says, while they wait for the Thunderclap to pick them up, “We need to talk about what happened back there.”

“Which part?” Kulah’ni asks, too exhausted to argue.

“The part where you were about to kill someone in cold blood.”  She looks away from his admonishing expression.  “That isn’t you.  That isn’t the woman I work with and admire.”

Kulah’ni sighs.  “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“You usually know exactly what to say.”

“What?  That I wouldn’t have killed her, if I hadn’t found out she’s my sister?”  Kulah’ni laughs tiredly.  “I can’t say that, Aric.  I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“Some of the things you said were irresponsible.”

“Which ones?”

“Well, let’s think.”  Aric’s tone of voice is sarcastic and—surprisingly— angry.  He hasn’t been angry with her in a long time.  “Maybe the bit about how you trusted her even though you knew about Makeb, but suddenly one person dies and she’s worse than the Emperor?”

Kulah’ni opens her mouth to explain, but the words die in her throat.

“What about the lives we took?” he asks.  “If she’d had someone important to her on Korriban, and you killed them in the line of duty—“

“No one is important to anyone on that planet!”

“As much as I hate to admit it, that’s bullshit and we both know it!” he snarls.  “Kriff, Kulah’ni, usually our positions would be reversed right now.  Why are you so defensive about this?”

“I don’t kriffing know!”

“Yeah, well, I can guess.”  Aric gives her a piercing look.  “You’re trying to find a way to stay angry with her, aren’t you?  You’re trying to find someone to blame for Torunna’s death, and it was a lot easier when Darth Nox was just a despotic Dark Council member instead of your younger sister.”

Kulah’ni feels herself deflating.  “You know me so well,” she chokes out, feeling tears stinging her eyes. 

“Look, I…” he trails off, clenching his fists.  “You know I’m no good at this stuff.  But sometimes there isn’t someone to blame.  Sometimes good people die, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I know,” she says, feeling hollow.

They stand there in silence, the conversation having run its course.  The Thunderclap shows up a few minutes later, and they board it without saying anything, but he puts his hand on her shoulder before heading off to change out of his armor.

Kulah’ni stands in the common room, alone, not knowing how to feel anymore.  Her thoughts are interrupted by the holoterminal.

It’s S’kora.  Sans helmet this time.

“I’m sorry for running off so soon, but I didn’t want Anjanay or your Jedi friend to be privy to any conversation between us,” S’kora says.  “Speaking of, she’s not very Jedi-like, is she?”

Suddenly, all Kulah’ni wants is to talk to S’kora.  “Is there somewhere we can safely meet in person?”

S’kora is silent, giving Kulah’ni time to observe.  The scars have faded, but they’re still very much visible.  She’s even thinner than Kulah’ni remembers, as though she doesn’t eat enough.  She keeps her hair in wraps near her face, and wears severe-looking makeup around her eyes and lips.

All in all, she looks like a proper Sith Lord, even without the terrifying helmet.

“I can meet you on Nar Shaddaa,” S’kora finally says.  “I’ll send you specific coordinates.  If I may request that you come alone…”

“I will.”

S’kora smiles sadly.  “You shouldn’t trust me so easily.”

“I’m the older one,” Kulah’ni points out.  “You can’t tell me what to do.”

She laughs.  “Point taken.  Very well, then I suggest you wear something unaffiliated with the Republic.  It would not do for either of us to be recognized when we meet.  I suspect our new friends, the Revanites, would be eager to have blackmail on you, and as for me… well, I don’t fancy a visit from Anjanay anytime soon.”

“Sounds good,” Kulah’ni says.  “I’ll see you there.”

“Until then,” S’kora says, bowing her head and flickering out of existence.

* * *

 

Nar Shaddaa is almost exactly the same as it was the last time that Kulah’ni was there: dirty, crowded, and somewhat smelly.  Her coordinates direct her to an apartment close to the Duros Sector, where she rings the doorbell and waits.  She’s fairly certain that she hasn’t been followed, but she has no way of knowing for sure.

An unfamiliar man opens the door, bowing to her.  “Miss Dorne,” he says, waving her inside.  “Please, come in.  Miss Kallig is awaiting you in the parlor.”

And indeed, S’kora is there.  This time, she is dressed in colorless robes, lounging on an armchair and looking for all the world like she’s half asleep.  She straightens when Kulah’ni enters the room, fixing her with a piercing gaze. 

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Kulah’ni says, not sure where to start.

S’kora shakes her head.  “It’s Ashara’s, not mine.  She agreed to lend it to me for this meeting.”

They fall into an awkward silence.  Kulah’ni has been so desperate to speak to S’kora, but she suddenly finds herself at a loss for words.  She has a million questions, and she can see them reflected in her sister’s eyes.

“How about this,” she finally says.  “You get to ask me a question, then I get to ask you a question.  Deal?”

S’kora’s mouth quirks into a half grin.  “Deal.  So my first question is: you lost your accent?”

“I trained myself out of it,” Kulah’ni responds, shrugging.  “But I also had a lot of influence on me, growing up in the Temple.  Almost no one had Imperial accents there.  And I… wanted to leave my past behind.  You cut your hair?”

 “One of my masters shaved it when I was an adolescent.  I attempted to keep it short after that, when someone was able to smuggle a pair of scissors to me.  You changed your name— you’re married?”

“Yes.”  Kulah’ni smiles.  “You’ve met her, actually.”

Recognition flares in S’kora’s eyes.  “Congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you.  How about you— anyone special in your life?”

As Kulah’ni watches S’kora talk about her marriage to a pirate, she can’t help but think that none of this is what she really wants to discuss.  She doesn’t want to be the one to broach the more serious topics, however, and it’s clear that S’kora doesn’t either.  Eventually, after answering S’kora’s question about her squadmates, she clears her throat.

“When were you taken to Korriban?” she asks.

S’kora looks down at her lap, but she doesn’t take as long to answer as Kulah’ni thought.  “I was 19 when I was sent there,” she says.  “Apparently I was subconsciously using the Force to survive up until that point, but that was when my ability to use it knowingly manifested for the first time.”

Kulah’ni nods, not sure how to process the fact that S’kora spent 12 years enslaved. 

“How did you end up at the Jedi Temple?”

Kulah’ni can hear the silent question in that.

“I stole everything Mother had and ran,” she says.  “I spent a year here, actually, before Master Felmar found me and took me with her.”

_I ran so that I could look for you_ , she doesn’t say.

“I see,” S’kora says slowly.  “So you don’t know if she’s alive.”

“No.”  Kulah’ni feels a hot wave of shame, and not just because of what happened with their mother.  “I thought about killing her— I almost did— before I left.  But I couldn’t do it.”

S’kora is expressionless.  She fiddles with her lightsaber, before setting it to the side and deliberately folding her hands in her lap.  She seems to be on the verge of saying something, but whatever it is, Kulah’ni doesn’t know.

On impulse, she says, “I’m sorry.”

S’kora’s head jerks towards her.  “For what?”

“For—“ _For not protecting you when we were younger.  For not finding you sooner.  For not being able to recognize you.  For almost killing you_.  “For saying those things to you.  I… I’ve killed people in battle before.  People with families, with lives outside of the fight.  I can’t judge you for doing the same.”

“Except you should,” S’kora says.  “You had every right to pull that trigger.  I am no longer a child, and I’ve committed atrocities that you don’t want to know about.  I did not deserve your mercy.”

Kulah’ni did not know what to expect, but it had not been this self-flagellation.  “You’re my sister,” she says.

“A sister who killed someone who was practically your mother.  Hmm.  Clearly I ought to be spared.”

“Stop it,” Kulah’ni says.  “What is this?  What are you doing?”

S’kora’s smile is humorless.  “Showing you the truth.  I allowed you this meeting to give you some sort of emotional closure over seeing me again, but I have also come here to tell you that we cannot form any kind of relationship.  The galaxy itself would be out to destroy us if we did.”

Kulah’ni swallows.  “I don’t believe that.”

“Then you’re a fool!”  S’kora’s shout startles Kulah’ni enough that she almost jumps.  “A naïve, insufferable fool, and as I’m sure any of my followers would tell you, I do not suffer fools in my life.  I have built a life for myself, practically carved it out of stone with my bare hands, and you no longer have a place in it.”

“Kriff that!” Kulah’ni yells back, and this time it’s S’kora who seems surprised.  “I came here because I wanted to know how you’re doing, that you’re alright, that you’re _safe_ —or as safe as a Sith can be, considering.  Do I want you back in my life?  Of course!  But if you didn’t want me in yours, you could have just said so instead of inviting me here like we were going to make a real attempt to bridge the gap between us!”

S’kora’s voice takes on an edge of desperation.  “If I let you in, you will die,” she says.  “The people I care about— they’re still around, by some miracle, but I have no idea how long that will last.  It’s too late for them to back out now.  It’s not too late for you.”

“Like I said,” Kulah’ni replies, “kriff that.  If you really, _really_ don’t want me in your life, that’s fine.  Just say the word, and I’ll leave.  I’ll pretend like I don’t know you.”

She holds her breath, waiting for S’kora’s answer.  They’ve both gotten to their feet during their argument, and are facing one another as though they’re about to get into a physical fight.  S’kora won’t look at her, but Kulah’ni can still see a million emotions on her face. 

Finally, S’kora looks up. 

“Go,” she says quietly.  “The next time we meet, we’re strangers.”

For the second time in two weeks, Kulah’ni feels as though her heart is breaking.

“Fine,” she replies, and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time, I do have some notes.
> 
> 1\. This wasn't what I had originally planned for this series. S'kora and Kulah'ni were originally going to try to stay in contact with one another and be sisters again. But considering my plans for what's coming next (and the fact that S'kora is somewhat emotionally stunted), this made more sense. Even though I do hate to break Kulah'ni's heart again.
> 
> 2\. Ceydri is a little bit more... high-strung than I meant her to be. It's closer to her in-game character than I thought I would write her, but I trust my gut and my gut said to write her like this. 
> 
> 3\. Once again, I thought maybe my Agent would be making an appearance in this story. Once again, I was wrong. But she is one of the five characters that will be featured in my next series.
> 
> 4\. I've already made a few decisions regarding the next series. One of them is that I will be writing in past tense instead of present tense - it flows more smoothly for longer stories, and I struggled with it when I was writing this one, so I think it's time for that to change. I will also be changing viewpoints within stories, using the POVs of NPC characters, etc. Basically expanding the scope a lot.
> 
> 5\. The next series will revolve almost entirely around the KOTFE/KOTET stories, but will make a rather large divergence from canon at some point because I am rejecting KOTET's reality and substituting my own.
> 
> 6\. If you're curious about my Bounty Hunter or my Smuggler... my BH is not one of the five characters, but she will be making an eventual appearance. My Smuggler, however, is basically the worst person in the galaxy, and I haven't decided if she'll show up or not.
> 
> If you have any other questions, or just want to drop by and say hi, check out my [askbox](http://jaennsisters.tumblr.com/ask)!

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually have any extra little notes to add, this time. 
> 
> If you have any questions or just want to talk about SWTOR, you're welcome to [send me an ask](http://jaennsisters.tumblr.com/ask)! Otherwise, if you're just curious about [my SWTOR blog](http://jaennsisters.tumblr.com), feel free to browse.


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